


Like Real People Do

by With_the_Wolves



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A surprising amount of fluff honestly, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Season/Series 04, The Buried Fear Domain (The Magnus Archives), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/With_the_Wolves/pseuds/With_the_Wolves
Summary: Martin gets Buried instead of Daisy. Jon rescues him.Written for Febuwhump, Day 9: Buried Alive
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139420
Comments: 9
Kudos: 144
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Like Real People Do

“Absolutely not,” Basira says. “You’re not getting yourself killed.”

“I’m really not asking,” Jon replies. His chest aches where his ribs were so recently pulled from him, and the bone feels almost warm in his hands. “I’m not just going to leave him in there.”

“I say let him go,” Daisy cuts in, her voice low and hostile. “One less monster for us to deal with.”

Jon turns his face away. She’s right, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered exactly that point, but… this isn’t an excuse for him to die. He _has_ to come out of the coffin. He has to get Martin out.

Basira ignores Daisy. “Jon, we’ve all lost people. You have to get over it.”

Jon just shakes his head. “I’m not losing him.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, until Basira finally relents. “Fine. You want to get yourself killed? Go ahead.”

“I’m not going to get myself killed,” Jon says, with much more confidence than he feels.

“No death in that thing,” Daisy says.

“Yes,” Jon says, still not looking at her. “But—this will work. People have found their way out of the Buried before. One person, at least, and the Eye _wanted_ me to read their statement. It—If I leave my rib here, I should be able to find my way back to it.”

“And how will you find Martin?” Basira asks.

“That won’t be a problem,” Jon says. He can’t See him, not in the Coffin, but he can feel him. A deep kind of resigned terror that makes his heart ache.

“How long?” Basira asks.

“I don’t know,” Jon says.

Basira glares at him. “You don’t know.”

“No!” Jon says. “I might be in there—a day? Maybe?”

“And if you don’t come out?” Basira says.

“One less monster,” Jon manages with a self-deprecating smile, glancing at Daisy.

“Yeah, well,” Basira says. “Try to make it back.”

“Right,” Jon says. “Right.”

***

It’s easy, finding Martin.

Well, no. Easy isn’t quite the right word. The Coffin is… horrible, dirt brushing against every exposed part of Jon’s skin, walls closing around him, squeezing him until he isn’t quite sure how he’s even moving forward. He can’t breathe, and his throat hurts from inhaling dust.

But he can feel Martin, like a tether, pulling him closer and closer, until finally he’s… there. He’s right there, and Jon is grabbing his hand, and it’s cold but it’s _Martin_. He’s never been so glad in his life.

“Jon?” Martin says, and his voice breaks Jon’s heart. He sounds exhausted. He sounds… crushed. Nothing Martin should ever, ever sound like.

“Yes,” Jon says, reaching out for more of him. It’s hard. The Coffin would much rather keep them apart.

“No, no,” Martin says. He also grabs for Jon, and manages to pull him a little closer, one hand settling on his arm. “You can’t be here. Why are you here?”

“I came rescue you,” Jon says.

“You came to…“ Martin’s face is already dirt-streaked and tearstained, but Jon hears his throat catch. “Jon, why would you do that? I don’t—I don’t want you to be trapped here too.”

“I—I won’t be,” Jon says. “I can—” his voice stops, as he reaches for his rib, comes up empty. “I—no, this isn’t—” Where is his anchor? He can’t feel anything, except for the endless, endless dirt pressing in on them for all directions. “Martin, I—I can’t—” his breath hitches with something like panic.

Martin pulls Jon to him, through the dirt, and Jon tries to take consolation that he can at least have this—Martin’s arms around him, holding him close in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Martin,” he says, and his voice breaks. He couldn’t even do this. “I—I thought—”

“It’s alright, Jon,” Martin says, petting a hand through his hair. “It’s alright.”

***

Martin thought he’d gotten past the worst of the pain this place had in store for him. The terror had long since faded to numb, hopeless horror. The loneliness had started to feel… right, somehow. It was almost peaceful. For once, nothing left to worry about.

But now his heart is breaking, and he is barely, barely holding himself together. Because of Jon. Because Jon _came for him_. It’s such a stupid, Jon thing to do, Martin almost wants to laugh.

He’d so badly wanted Jon to be alright. It was the one thing he still bothered to hope for, in this hopeless place, but he should have known better.

Jon is doomed because of him. Jon is trembling, crying in his arms because he’s trapped here, forever. A lump forms in Martin’s throat. He wants to fix this. He so badly wants to fix this, to assure Jon that everything will be fine. But it won’t be fine. They’re buried, and it’s all Martin’s fault.

The worst part is that Martin is _happy_. He’s happy that Jon is here. He’d been _so certain_ that he would never, ever see Jon again. Now he’s warm against Martin’s chest, and even while he cries it is so, so sweet to hear his voice.

He shouldn’t be happy.

Jon pulls back from him, just slightly, just enough to say, “I’m glad—Well,” he laughs softly, wetly. “I’m not glad you’re here. But… If I had to be stuck in a hell dimension with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Martin buries his face in Jon’s hair, laughing silently. Laughing too much, probably for how feeble of a joke it was. “Me too, Jon.”

“I love you,” Jon says. Just like that.

And Martin—can’t. It’s too much.

He gets a sudden flash of terror, imagining the dirt softening and flooding around them, into every little crack between them, forcing them apart. He wouldn’t survive that. Wouldn’t survive losing Jon. Wouldn’t survive knowing that Jon was suffering, somewhere, without being able to offer him even a modicum of comfort.

He holds Jon even tighter, trying to relax the heavy knot that’s formed in his throat. It’s difficult to breath, and for once it isn’t because of the dirt surrounding them. “I love you too, Jon. I’ve always—” his voice hitches, and then he’s sobbing, clutching to Jon like a life raft, because that is exactly what he is. The only thing keeping Martin from sinking.

Jon’s hand comes up to his face, and wipes tears and dirt from his cheeks.

***

A day passes, then two more, and Jon doesn’t re-emerge from the Coffin. Basira doesn’t ask Elias for advice, but he tells her anyway. Tapes. Everything always comes back to the tapes.

Part of her agrees with Daisy, that Jon being gone gives them one less monster to deal with. But… if the Institute gets attacked again, Basira would rather have as many monsters as possible on her side. And she likes Martin. He doesn’t deserve to be trapped in the Coffin forever.

***

Martin is dozing when he feels Jon squeeze his hand.

“Martin,” he says. “I—I think—” Jon’s eyes aren’t looking at him, are far away, and in the dim light Martin can see that they are glowing, just faintly. He doesn’t know if he should be worried or hopeful.

Then Jon gasps, and a grin comes over his face. He keeps his tight grip on Martin’s hand, and says, “I know the way. Martin, I _know the way out_!”

***

They emerge from the Coffin into Jon’s office, and everything is dark. It’s 1:43am, according to the Eye, and the others have long since gone to sleep in the tunnels.

It isn’t silent, though. All around them, the tapes are running.

“That’s… creepy,” Martin says, leaning heavily on Jon’s shoulder.

Jon just nods, too exhausted to speak. The Coffin lid slams behind them, and they both sink to the floor, still holding on to each other.

They just lay there for a long time, listening to the drone of the tapes around them. Then Martin pulls Jon tightly against him and they embrace.

“I love you,” Martin says, his voice thick and muffled in Jon’s hair.

“I love you too,” Jon says, leaning back to look into Martin’s eyes. Jon’s eyes are soft and he smiles as he looks at Martin, so it takes him by surprise when the next thing Jon says is, “You need a shower.”

Martin laughs. “Wow, okay!”

Jon looks away, blushing. “I just—I meant—I thought you’d probably want one, given everything, and, and—You are a bit covered in dirt.”

Martin laughs again. It’s been so long since he’s laughed at anything. “Jon, can I kiss you?” he says, before he can think about it too hard, before his self-consciousness catches up to him and talk him out of it.

“What?” Jon says. “I—Yes?”

So Martin does. Jon tastes like dirt, and Martin can feel the grit between their lips. But it’s still Jon, and Martin can just barely bring himself to pull away.

“I love you,” he says again, because he can say it now. Because he’s too exhausted to not say it as often as he possibly can. “And you need a shower too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Like Real People Do" by Hozier, a song about bog bodies and romance.
> 
> @suttttton on tumblr, come say hi!


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